Decisions and Consequences
by Rommie01
Summary: Altair takes the decision to save a boy and bring him to Masyaf in order to be trained as an Assassin. Will time prove that he did the right thing? Or will he regret it forever?
1. A Very Strange Monk

**A Very Strange Monk...**

The streets of Jerusalem were crowded and smelly. The sun was hot, but that had not kept many people from getting out of their houses and attending their usual duties. Noises were coming from everywhere. Feet dragged on the dusty ground, the laughs of the children, even music, but the most prominent of them all were the shouts of the merchants who were desperately trying to sell their goods before they became rotten in the tremendous heat.

"Come, let me show you what I have to offer!" a chubby, short man yelled from behind his stand. The wide smile on his face faded slowly when he saw that the monk he addressed to didn't even bother to look in his direction. He watched him making his way through the crowd with sure steps, shifting his weight from one foot to another in a steady rhythm and gently pushing aside anyone who stood in his way. 

"Strange monk," muttered the merchant while whipping the sweat from his forehead with a dirty rag.

Altair ignored the fat man's invitation completely and cursed in his mind the two men who blocked his way. He hated walking on these busy streets! Using the rooftops would have been a much shorter and simpler route to the Assassin's Bureau, but he didn't want to attract any unwanted attention. Not now, when he was so close to completing his mission here in Jerusalem. Plus, the long road gave him more time for thinking about what he was supposed to say to Malik, excepting the information he had learned about his target. Although he wouldn't admit that to anyone, he was feeling guilty about what had happened at the Solomon's Temple. Malik had lost his brother and his arm and there was no one else to blame but him.

The Assassin had already decided that it would be best not to talk to Malik at all about the incident when the screams of a child pierced through the crowd and interrupted his train of thoughts. Although it was coming from the far side of the city, his well trained ear perceived the noise as if it was coming from right behind him. His first reaction was to ignore the situation. After all, it wasn't his business. He had a mission to complete. Still, his feet didn't agree and they started running in the opposite direction of the Bureau as if they had a mind of their own. 

"You are wise, which is why you came to me," smiled the chubby man to the young lady who was taking a look at his goods.

"I am not so sure about that," said the woman in a slightly annoyed tone. "These fruits are rotten."

"You are mistaking, young lady. They have this color because the ground they are growing on has healing powers. That means-" The suddenly agitated crowd prevented the man from continuing his fantastic story. After a few seconds, his mind slowly started to register what had just happened. The woman had been pushed into his stand an now his precious fruits were smashed under her weight.

"You will pay for this! Come back here!" He screamed to the running figure that seemed responsible for the whole mess. As he expected, he received no response. Then, the realization struck him.

"That damned monk! I knew there was something wrong about him!"

With his mind deeply focused on distinguishing the screams from the other noises and on using them as a guide, Altair almost didn't notice the small group of guards who were coming to his direction. He came to a sudden halt and quickly sneaked among the people until he was at a safe distance from his enemies. Once he'd lost their sight, the Assassin started running again. The voices were becoming louder and louder, and now he could clearly distinguish the words.

"You dirty thief! I'll have your hand for that!" threatened the well built man who seemed to be the boss.  
>The little boy desperately tried to free himself from the other man holding him, while the other two were enjoying the spectacle with their hands on their hips, clearly amused at the child's futile attempts.<p>

"No, please! I was hungry! I promise I will never do that again!" he tried to defend himself, but instead of forgiveness he received a hard fist in his nose. Now the guards burst into a loud laughter making the hooded face of the man above them grow darker with anger. Busy as they were with torturing the boy, they hadn't noticed him watching from the top of the building behind them.

"Stop laughing or I'll cut your tongues!" yelled the boss at his subordinates. They stopped. "Let's finish this, we had enough fun for today," he said while reaching for his sword.

"Leave him alone." The voice was strong and demanding, yet even. Startled by the uninvited guest, the guards drew their swords all at the same time and turned to the direction of the noise, letting the child go. He immediately took advantage of this opportunity and vanished behind the old, ruined buildings.

Altair couldn't help a small, brief smile when he saw the guards suddenly relaxing when they caught sight of him. They started to laugh even harder than before, but the boss silenced them after a while with only a movement of his hand.  
>"What do we have here? " he smiled revealing his dirty, yellow teeth. "Did you came here to preach us the word of God, monk? Hoping that we will see the light and take the path of redemption?" He revealed his ugly teeth again and silenced the others once more while making sure, proud steps towards the monk. He was now standing only a few centimeters away from him and Altair could feel his bad breath brushing his face. Still, he kept standing there like a statue, as he did for the last few minutes, an amused expression that was barely perceptible decorating his features.<br>The other guards witnessed in shock how their boss had suddenly fallen to the ground, a pool of blood surrounding him like an aura, but they quickly recovered as soon as they saw Altair drawing his sword, preparing to attack them.  
>"What kind of a monk carries a weapon?" shouted one of them.<br>"He's an Assassin, you-!" He never finished his sentence. Now he was more concentrated on blocking the Assassin's attacks. As soon as he felt the impact of the sword clashing with his enemy's, Altair quickly turned towards the soldier behind him, taking him by surprise and slitting his throat with ease. With only two enemies left, the 'monk' was sure now that he can win this fight without even a scratch. With the speed of a lightning striking in the night, Altair launched himself towards one of them, but he expertly dodged his hit and attacked back. The sound of steel against steel made the air vibrate. Altair decided that he had to finish this as soon as possible. He pushed hard against the guard's sword, outbalancing him enough to give the Assassin the opportunity to plant the hidden blade in his victim's stomach. He then turned around just in time to block the other soldier's attack. Altair took advantage of his surprise and kicked him in the guts with his knee. Hard. The guard screamed in pain and collapsed to the ground, wrapping his hands around his abdomen. Just when he wanted to stab him with his hidden blade, the Assassin felt a sharp pain in his left arm. His victim had stabbed him first with a knife. He had probably aimed for his heart, but the pain and fear prevented his success. Without further hesitation, the sharp blade of the Assassin found its way into the screaming man's throat, silencing him forever.

"Fear not, for you have found peace now," whispered Altair while closing the lifeless eyes which were staring at him.

"Thank you." The voice was tiny and hesitant. The Assassin stood up and analysed its source- a boy not older than ten, dressed in dirty, torn clothes. His face was partially covered in dried blood resulted from the guard's hit, but what really stood out were his eyes. So full of determination...They reminded him of someone.

"You have nothing to thank me for. Go home, your parents are probably looking for you."  
>Instead of listening to his advice, the boy followed Altair with quick steps, trying to keep up with his fast steps. The Assassin had no time to waste. "You are hurt," he said, pointing at his arm.<p>

"It's nothing serious."

"I want to learn to fight like you." The boy was starting to get really annoying.

"I told you to go home."

"I don't have a home. My parents are dead," responded the boy with a hint of sadness in his voice.

Altair stopped suddenly, taken by surprise. He hadn't expected that. He then took another closer look at the child. The boy seemed strong and with great potential. What if he would take him at Masyaf? There he would be trained as an Assassin and he might prove very useful one day.

The Assassin started walking again, well aware of those questioning eyes staring at him. " Tell me," he asked, " have you ever heard about Masyaf?" 


	2. An Unpleasant Surprise

**I do not own Assassin's Creed**

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><p><strong>An Unpleasant Surprise<strong>

The man was bent over the old counter, concentrated on drawing something that started to look like a map. He stopped for a moment and took a good look at his work, a smile of satisfaction brushing over his dry lips. The hot air mixed with the faint smell of incense made him really thirsty, so he reached for the half full flask that was carefully placed near his drawing instruments. Malik greedily emptied its contents and released a brief sigh. The bureau was hot, but compared with the heat from outside, it was a really pleasant place to stay. He sighed again, deeper this time, reminding the reason why he was here instead of actually being outside, completing assignments in the big city of Jerusalem, like a certain other Assassin did. His anger increased even more when he glanced at the place where his left hand should have been and clenched his remaining fist in an attempt to hold back his rage.

The thud in the other room made Malik's sharp, dark eyes dart into the direction of the sound. He furrowed his brow and muttered a swear, already sure about the identity of the person who landed on the floor. The Rafik took a deep breath and decided that his hate for the man who destroyed his life would only compromise the mission. He will act as a true Assassin should.

"What the hell is this?" Malik shouted at the sight of the small boy holding the white hooded man's hand.

"A child," Altair responded simply and calmly.

"Of course it is a child! What else would it be? A camel? Then the enraged man quickly added, "What is he doing here!"

At this question, Altair's expression became uncertain for a few moments. He really didn't know why he took the decision to take the boy to Masyaf. He had acted on impulse, without giving too much thought to the consequences and now he already started to regret it. Still, he had made a promise to the child and he was a man of his word.

"Arsal, please go to the other room and have some rest," Altair addressed the boy who was staring at the man dressed in black (more exactly at his stump) with a curious, yet somewhat frightened expression on his face.

The child lifted his gaze and looked the Assassin straight into his golden eyes. With a small nod, he exited the room.

Now alone, the two men were able to discuss more freely.

"He can be of great use," Altair began in a low voice. Seeing the Rafik looking back at him with scepticism, he continued: "Our numbers are thinning out. We have to bring more people, or we will stand no chance against the Templars. I-"

"This isn't for you to decide, Altair!" Malik cut him, struggling to keep his voice down. "Our Grandmaster is the one who takes this kind of decisions. You don't even have a saying in this, novice!"

The last word made Altair's blood boil. "I am not a novice," he shot back.

"Yet your actions prove otherwise. You stupidity is without boundaries and you don't fail to prove this at every occasion!"

"I promised the boy that I will take him to Masyaf. I will keep this promise and I will convince Al-Mualim to accept him. I trust he will take the right decision."

The arrogance in the Assassin's voice made Malik grind his teeth in anger.

"Do not compromise the Brotherhood, Altair! This is the most important tenet of the Creed and you're about to break it yet again!"

The Assassin couldn't believe it! Malik really thought that this child can do harm to the Brotherhood! "He is just a child," he stated simply.

"The fact that he is a child won't stop him from planting a knife into your back, both literally and metaphorically!" The Rafik shouted a bit too loud this time.

"He will do no such thing."

The confidence in the hooded man's voice angered Malik even more. He needed his entire mind strength to restrain himself from punching him for this... and other things. Then, he realised that he shouldn't bother to convince Altair about the mistake he was about to do. After all, this would prove Al-Mualim once and for all that his favourite never deserved the title of Master Assassin. The rank of Novice suited him much better.

Altair observed the stiffened shoulders of the man in front of him starting to relax and he immediately recognised the gesture as one of resignation. He cooked his head slightly in order to hide the faintly raised corners of his mouth.

"Very well," the Rafik broke the silence. "Do as you wish, but I assure you that you will regret this later, given, of course, that you will manage to convince the Master about the wisdom of your decision." He gave Altair a sarcastic smile and then added, "Most likely he will kill the boy the moment he sets foot to Masyaf and, with a bit of luck, you will be the next in line."

The coldness in the Assassin's voice almost froze the heated bureau, "I assure you that such things won't happen."

Malik sighted and leaned against the counter. "I consider this discussion over. Now tell me about the things you've learned while you walked the city."

After telling him everything he had found out about Tal'al, the slave dealer, Altair took a small break, than asked in a sarcastic tone, "Are you satisfied with the information I've learned,?"

"No, but it will have to do," answered Malik while reaching for a white feather which he then handed to the Assassin."

Altair took it without breaking eye-contact with the Rafik and then headed to the other room where he could have a well deserved rest before his mission.

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><p>Altair instinctively grabbed the hand that barely touched a throwing knife attached to his belt. As an Assassin, he had been trained to be alert even in his sleep. In the fade light of the moon he could distinguish the stiffened silhouette of the person who just wanted to steal his weapon. A child.<p>

"What are you doing?" He addressed the boy in a cold tone.

Arsal swallowed and barely found his voice, "I...I was curious. They are so beautiful."

The shaky whispers of the child made Altair release his too strong grip. "Never do that again. I might hurt you."

The boy released a sigh of relief and, before going back to sleep, he asked, "Will you teach me how to use them?"

"One day."


	3. Nuisance

**I do not own Assassin's Creed**

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><p><strong>Nuisance<strong>

The first rays of sun bathed the small room of the bureau in a warm light. Deranged by this invader, the boy opened his eyes for a moment only to close them again quickly at the feeling of sharp needles stabbing his orbits. Once adjusted with the new light, Arsal examined his surroundings and immediately noticed that the man dressed in white, his saviour, was missing. He shrugged and then covered his growling stomach with one of his hands. After a few moments of thorough thinking, the child finally decided to face the scary, evil man dressed in black.

Malik lifted his gaze from the map that he was already working at and met the chocolate eyes of the little boy. It was something different about them this time. The fright they had held in the previous night, as little of it as it was, disappeared completely and now they were full of certainty and determination, something very unusual for a child of his age. One that wasn't born in the Brotherhood, of course. Maybe that stupid novice was right after all and this child, if he proved to be trustworthy, would be of great help to the Clan.

"What is that you want?" Finally the man asked.

The boy studied Malik for a few brief moments, trying to estimate the amount of hostility in his gaze. Reaching the conclusion that the man was a bit calmer than in the previous night, he opened his mouth to speak with confidence, "I'm hungry."

Malik sighed and glanced at the compass he was holding, before throwing it on the desk with a groan of frustration. He didn't have any extraordinary food. The only things he could offer were bread and water and that little devil would better not complain about it. He took the food and headed towards the other room, motioning the child to follow him. Once there, the Rafik sat on a soft pillow and crossed his legs, watching the kid copying his movements entirely.

"So you are hungry, too," stated the boy after hearing the growling stomach of the man before him. Malik said nothing, but the way he was eating was also an answer. He was often forgetting to eat, engrossed in his work as he was. That was his only escape: his books, his writings, his maps. They kept his mind busy, free of unpleasant memories. He shifted slightly on his pillow and continued eating, secretly studying the child with the corner of his eye.

While examining the child, Malik couldn't help but observe how skinny and miserably he looked. What the hell was the novice thinking? Even if Al Mualim accepted this boy into the Brotherhood, there was no way he could survive the rigorous training that children of his age received. Although partially covered by some loose pants, his legs still looked more like sticks than flesh and bone. It was as if that dirty, chocolate skin was attached directly to his bones. The Rafik then lifted his gaze towards the dark and greasy hair of the boy. He wasn't sure if that was its natural color or it was actually very dirty, but he decided not to ponder too much upon this mystery. What made him stop his examination was the sneaky glance the boy shot in his direction. Realizing that he was also analysed, the Rafik decided that it was better to play the role of the unknowing victim.

After the two stayed their hunger, the youngest of them finally broke the suspicious silence that had settled over them. "What happened to your arm?"

Malik stiffened for a moment, chaotic flashes of painful memories invading his brain at an alarming speed. He recovered quickly and answered sharply, "It's none of your business!"

Arsal struggled to seem unfazed by the sharp tone of the man and continued his little interrogatory, "My name is Arsal. What is yours?"

"It's none of your business," Malik repeated.

"I've told you my name, so it's only fair of you to tell me yours," responded the child in a slightly annoyed tone.

"I didn't ask for your name."

The insistent gaze of the child almost made the Rafik explode. "Malik! That is my name. Satisfied now?"

"Yes," Arsal responded with a big grin on his face. He then lifted from his pillow and hurried to the other room, where the man he was interrogating disappeared. When he arrived there, the man was already bent over his counter, looking over his maps with an angry expression on his face.

"Can you tell me more about Masyaf?"

"No."

"It's the stronghold of the Assassins, isn't it? Altair told me that, but nothing more."

"And what makes you think that I would be the one to tell you more?"

Malik felt grateful for the silence that followed his question. Altair would better come back soon and take this nuisance off his hands. In those moments the Rafik really hoped he will never see either of them again after this day.

Just when the silence became sweeter, it was interrupted again by the voice of the child.

"What is that?" he asked, pointing at a metal object on the counter.

"It's a compass," Malik spat. "It's used for measurement."

"And that?"

"It's also a compass." Malik furrowed his brow and added quickly, anticipating the next question of the boy, "This one is used for orientation."

"How does it work?"

The Rafik rubbed his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. This will be a long day...

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><p>Altair waited until his chasers vanished behind the corner of a building and then he exited his hiding place, but not before assuring that there were no other guards on his tail. All the running from the past twenty minutes made his heart almost get out of his chest. The hot, dry air also didn't make things any better. The Assassin took a deep breath in order to calm himself. He was starting to feel better, but he couldn't ignore the unpleasant feeling of his dirty, bloody clothes sticking to his sweaty skin. Fortunately, the bureau was close and Altair felt more relieved than ever.<p>

After a few minutes of jumping from one building to another while expertly avoiding a few guards, the Assassin finally found himself under the pleasant shelter of the bureau. Once there, he strode towards the running stream of water from the tap across the room and took a couple of greedy sips using only his hands. While washing the sweat off his face he noticed the loud laughter coming from the other room. What Altair saw there made him smile a little. The boy was jumping "just like Altair" on pillows spread all over the stone floor while an angry Malik was rubbing his temple, muttering swear words under his breath.

Altair crossed his arms and leaned against the cold wall, watching the child jumping from one pillow to another, pretending that they were buildings. In those moments, the Assassin felt grateful for the white hood that was covering his golden eyes so well...along with the sadness that had washed over them. The invasion of memories about his childhood, or the lack of it, to be precise, filled him with both sorrow and pride. Being born in the Brotherhood, he started his training at an early age. Too early to even remember it very well. He was already considered a man when he realised that he had actually never been a child and the thought brought him tons of regrets and questions. What was it to have no worries? To play the whole day with the other children, the only thing to care about being to win a game...or to make others losing it? To not give a damn on Crusades, Saracens, Templars or Assassins? What was it to be free?

The Assassin lifted his left hand and stared at his palm, contemplating the gap between the middle finger and the little one. On the other hand, he felt proud. How many children knew how to wield a short blade at the age of six, and actually be very good at it? How many of them had the privilege to learn how to read and write, learn history, philosophy, astronomy, foreign languages? How many of them learned how to fight for their lives? How to end a live...

"Why are you standing there like an idiot?"

The sharp words of the Rafik cut the air, interrupting the stream of thoughts that was running through Altair's mind. He pushed back all of them and headed towards the counter while pulling a bloodstained feather from his pouch. Holding it in the eyes of the Rafik as if to be sure that he sees it, Altair spoke with a hint of pride in his voice, "Tal'al is dead."

"I know." Malik made a pause and then added, "In fact, the whole city knows! Have you forgotten the meaning of subtlety, Altair?" he spat, flinging his arm in the air.

"A skilled Assassin ensures his work is noticed by the many," Altair answered with arrogance. The reply only enraged the other man further.

"No! A skilled Assassin maintains control of his environment!" He wanted to say more, but the Assassin cut him, "We can argue the details all you'd like, Malik, but the fact remains I've accomplished the tasks set to me by Al Mualim."

The Rafik threw Altair an ice-cold look and bit his lower lip in an attempt to restrain his anger. "Go then, return to Al Mualim. And also take this devil with you! I don't want to see any of you anymore!" He pointed at the door and shut his eyes, trying to calm the blood that was boiling in his veins.

Only then Altair realized that the child had assisted to the whole scene. He turned to him and watched him standing in the middle of the room, stunned by the change of words he had just witnessed. The Assassin took Arsal's hand and dragged him off the room without saying a word, all kinds of thoughts haunting his mind. They had been so careless and their heated dialogue revealed things about the Assassins to the child. Normally, he would have to take the life of anyone who held those pieces of information, but giving the circumstances...he will just have to hope that the kid will only put them to good use.


	4. The Meeting

_I do not own "Assassin's Creed"_**.**

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><p><strong>The Meeting<strong>

There had been three long hours since they were on the road when Altair decided that it was the time for a pause. A long one actually, since the sun was almost touching the ground. He looked down at the boy who sat in front of him and met a pair of questioning eyes staring back at his own. "Why are we stopping?"

"The night is about to fall. Travelling in the darkness is risky for you," Altair answered in his usual neutral tone. The boy nodded and jumped out of the saddle with the agility of a cat. He ran his hand across the upper leg of the horse and gave Altair a broad smile. "I like horses."

The Assassin dismounted in silence and started setting the camp. He finished just before the red disk hid behind the mountains and then decided that it was the time for a good rest. Sitting in front of the fire, he watched the kid caressing the moist nose of the horse and tried to convince himself that he had taken the right decision. This child must not disappoint. He is not allowed to.

Seeing Altair pulling out food and water from his bag, the child headed towards him, stumbling because of the long, wide pants Malik had provided for him. That man was such a monster! He had forced him to wash and change his clothes with ones that didn't even fit him well. He was also being rude all the time and refused answering most of his questions. Altair wasn't too different either. He had been so quiet the whole trip and had also avoided giving him answers. In the end, he had given up asking him anything, for he was sure that it was useless.

The boy sat beside Altair and started eating. He watched the Assassin bringing the food to his mouth with slow, but sure movements, the light from the fire dancing in his absent gaze. "You are the Angel of Death, aren't you?"

The question made Altair's mind come back from whatever universe it was exploring. "Some call me like that," he answered indifferently.

"I've heard so many stories about you!" Arsal jumped, excitement flooding his eyes. "When I saw you fighting, you were exactly how the people described you! I knew you must be the Angel!"

"Is this why you were so eager to come with me?" Altair asked after taking a sip of his water.

"Yes, I want to be like you," the boy answered in a childish fashion, suitable for his age.

"It's a long road until there," Altair replied in a tone even more serious than usual. "Your training will not be easy, nor painless. Also, once you're in, there is no way out. At least not alive." He stopped for a second to watch the child's reaction. He was staring at him with wide eyes, as if not believing his ears about the words he had just heard. "You can still change your mind."

Arsal furrowed his brow, his expression filled with deep thought. "I will come with you," he spoke after a few moments. "I want to be an Assassin."

"As you wish," Altair answered, a fade smile brushing his lips.

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><p>The trip had been long and it did not lack of interesting events. Interesting for him, of course, but deadly for the bandits who attacked them and insignificant for Altair. The child was waiting outside the Grandmaster's study for almost an hour now and the excitement from the wonders he had witnessed so far started to slowly be replaced by boredom. To counter this effect, Arsal began to review the fresh memories of the impact this stronghold had on him when his eyes met it for the first time.<p>

Masyaf was amazing! Like nothing he had ever seen in his entire life! The imposing fortress had sent shivers down his spine the moment he saw it and made his jaw drop in wonder at such beauty. It was looking so abandoned there, on that cliff, but as soon as he had stepped through the main gate of the large courtyard, he realized how full of life it actually was. What had impressed him the most was the training range and the sound of clashing swords that was coming from that direction. Oh, how sad he had been when Altair didn't let him watch those two people training! He would have watched them the whole day, although they weren't as skilled as his protector. This thought brought him images of Altair fighting the bandits they had encountered on the way to Masyaf. How easy he had killed them one by one, almost effortlessly, leaving all four of them lying in a pool of crimson blood...

At the sight of two men dressed exactly like Altair, Arsal came back from his dream-like state. Their strong, intimidating aura was an excellent clue for the nature of these people. They were Assassins. He shifted his weight on his other foot and sighed nervously. Just like the many people like them he had seen since he arrived at Masyaf, these two were also giving him strange looks, exchanging whispered words between them. Fortunately, they passed him without bothering to ask anything and Arsal was more than grateful for this. However, he had managed to hear a few words from their conversation. He had clearly heard Altair's name and some other words that made the boy certain that his presence there wasn't seen with good eyes. Apparently Altair wasn't allowed to bring anyone to Masyaf without his Master's accord. Uneasiness started to fill him.

The door opened abruptly, making Arsal jump in shock, but it was nothing compared with what happened next. His blood stopped flowing through his veins for a few moments. An old man, his gaze more sharp than a thousand knifes together, came towards him with slow steps and started circling him quietly with the air of a predator, keeping his hands behind his back. The boy could do nothing but to stare at the wall in front of him, sheer terror imprinted on his face. Only when Altair came into his view he managed to breathe a bit more even. But not for long. After a few moments that seemed like ages, the old man stopped walking and made an amused "Humph." However, the boy could see no amusement on the man's face, partly because of the long, grey beard covering it.

"How old are you, boy?" His thick voice rang in the quiet hallway.

"E...Eleven," He barely managed to answer. What was about this old man that induced so much terror?

"Eleven..." he mused."We find ourselves in a difficult situation." He glanced at Altair who was listening carefully to the conversation. "Altair assured me of your worthiness, but words alone provide no warranty."

Judging by the old man's tone, Arsal could tell that that he wasn't content about the fact that Altair brought him there. Just the confirmation he had hoped he will never have. For some reason, he started to fear for his life, regretting that he accepted to do this.

"It is why you will be tested." The Grandmaster started to pace the hallway, keeping his ragged hands behind his back. "You will fight one of our young novices. Defeat him, and I will receive you into the Brotherhood. Lose, and you will meet death."

Arsal's eyes almost pooped out of their sockets at the old man's words. He glanced at Altair and he could see concern on his face, but only for a fraction of a second. Then, it turned into the one of a statue again.

"To make things even more easier for you," Al Mualim continued, "the novice you will be fighting is only nine years old." He stopped moving. "Yet, it doesn't mean he will hesitate to kill you."

With those words, the old man turned into his study, leaving a pale, trembling boy behind.

"You'd better rest and eat well this evening. Tomorrow will be a tough day." Although calm and quiet, the Assassin's voice made Arsal jump. He recovered quickly and nodded. Altair was right. However, he knew in his heart that no matter how much rest he will have this evening, it will not save him from his fate.

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><p><em><strong>A.N. <strong>The next chapter will come soon. As always, constructive criticism is more than welcomed. :)_


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